American Horror Short Story
by jamesianmckenzie
Summary: When Violet meets Tate, it's love at first sight. But Tate has a secret... the spookiest secret of all. Can their love survive the spooky secret?


Violet looked around at the house and couldn't believe her eyes.

"Wow," she said to her dad. "This house is, like, majorly dope."

Ben Harmon agreed with her. Overall, he had just a really good feeling about it.

"I'll tell you what, Violet," said Ben, turning to her suddenly, "maybe we shall just buy this house after all."

Violet, now, was literally trembling with excitement, before she realised she needed to go to the bathroom, rushing off to find one.

Turning to his wife Vivien, Ben asked, " What do you think?"

Vivien nodded her head with all the deftness of a professional head-nodder.

"When Violet comes back from her poo or pee, I think we'll let her know that we're buying it."

"My ears are burning," said the real estate lady, struggling to extinguish the flames.

"Christ!" exclaimed Ben Harmon. He snatched a half-empty vase from the bench and tossed the remaining water onto her face.

The real estate lady let out a relieved sigh. "Usually that doesn't happen," she said. "There must be something about this house."

"Pish posh!" said Vivien. "People's ears are always setting alight nowadays."

"Yes, I'll bet it's nothing," said Ben. "Now, where did that particular daughter of mine go? Oh yes, to expel some urine or faeces."

"Anyway," said Vivien, "I think we're going to take it."

Off in the distance, the ghosts of previous tenants laughed hysterically at the fate that was to befall the Harmons.

"What's that laughing about?" asked Vivien.

"Never you mind," said the real estate lady, snatching the cheque away from Vivien.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Violet had just met one of the house's ghostly residents, the handsome but troubled Tate.

"Oh Tate," said Violet, giving an orgasmic sigh. "Wipe it just like that."

"I don't know why I agreed to this," said Tate, rubbing the toilet paper over Violet's dirty crack.

"So, what are you doing around here anyway?" wondered Violet conversationally. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"I can never go back there," said Tate, swallowing the dirty toilet paper.

"Were you expelled?" asked Violet.

"Yes," Tate answered, "just like the poo out of your ass."

"Wow, you're so poetical," said Violet, shivering. She was unlikely to admit it, but a crush was developing.

Tate then couldn't help but break into song. "I feel like singing," he began, but was unable to think of any more words. "You must forgive me," he said. "Usually the lyrics just spontaneously come."

"It's okay," said Violet, pulling up her pants.

She motioned for Tate to flush, and he did.

"Come on, Tate. Meet my parents."

The two of them hurried off, unaware that they were being watched by literally billions of ghosts.

"...and that's how the gumption of one sprightly young boy saved Christmas," finished Vivien, as she noticed Violet walk in. "Why, if it isn't our daughter. And who's this you've brought along with you?"

"This is Tate," said Violet. "He's the bathroom attendant."

"I keep telling you, I'm not," Tate insisted.

"Well, nice to meet you, young man," said Vivien. "Look at you, so full of life. I bet that won't turn out to be ironic later."

"Do those creepy twins over there come with the house?" wondered Ben.

Suddenly noticing them, and visibly perturbed, the real estate lady nervously said, "Uh, yes."

"Well then," said Ben, driving his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "I wonder what other eccentric characters we'll meet in our time here."

The twins, as suddenly as they had appeared, vanished, and maniacal laughter was heard echoing through the cavernous old home.

"How frequently do things like that happen?" wondered Vivien, who was becoming a bit concerned.

"Infrequently," said the real estate lady.

"Well then!" said Vivien, laughing loudly and encouraging the others to laugh along with her, but they weren't having it.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Man, doorbells creep me out," said Ben Harmon.

Everyone went to investigate. Having found herself somehow at the front of the pack, the nervous real estate lady slowly opened the door, only to reveal...

Nothing.

Nobody was at the door.

"Phew, what a relief," said Ben. "Alright then, if you can send somebody to fix that malfunctioning doorbell, we'll sign everything you need."

Maniacal laughter, once again, rang out from inside the house.

"Send someone to investigate that laughing as well," continued Ben.

"Very well," said the real estate lady, struggling to conceal her distress as she noticed several demons standing behind the Harmons. "Goodbye then."

The Harmons politely wives goodbye, as did the demons.

xxx

Later that week, everybody was enjoying breakfast. Violet was eating pop tarts while her mother was spreading marmalade on her toast.

"Mother," began Violet precociously, "why do they call them pop tarts? Is it because they pop out of the toaster and they're a kind of tart?"

"I don't rightly know," Vivien replied. "Anyway, eat your popular tart. You'll need your energy for your first day of school."

Violet shivered with dread. "But I hate school!"

"I'm afraid school is a necessary part of life," began Vivien, "like taking poos. Believe me, Violet, there are plenty of days when I'd rather not plop out a brown one, but I have to do it, so I sit there on that porcelain seat and squeeze out the biggest darn crap I can."

"Hmm," Violet replied contemplatively. "I think I understand now."

Under the table, she kicked the dog, causing it to yelp and run away.

"One day I'll simply murder that pup," said Violet. "I'll cut off its head and cook it in a stew."

"Violet!" snapped her mother. "Don't talk like that! What did that dog ever do to you!"

"Remember when it peed on my boyfriend, and he broke up with me?" she snapped.

"You have to understand," began Vivien, "dogs are like retarded children - well, speak of the devil!"

Standing behind Violet now was a down syndromed girl. She waved, embarrassing herself by her very existence.

"Why hello there," said Vivien to her. "Where's your mommy?"

"I'm right here," said an older but nonetheless striking woman as she entered the room. "I see you're the new tenants."

"No, we're the Harmons," replied Vivien.

"Well," said the lady, "this is my daughter, Adelaide. I named her after the character from American Horror Story season one."

"Hello," said Adelaide.

"And my name is Constance," she continued, "Constance Langdon."

"Well," said Vivien, "I hope you'll come to visit us constance-ly."

"Oh, I get it," snapped the lady. "You think my name is somehow funny, don't you? Well, you're no Lenny Bruce. Come on Adelaide. I wonder if some other family will be more tolerant of our rude intrusions."

The pair left in a huff, while Vivien and Violet looked upon them with blank, baffled stared.

"Why don't down syndrome babies just get thrown in the fire?" asked Violet with a sigh.

"I just don't know," replied Vivien, shaking her head.

xxx

Violet rested her head against the pillow as she slept. Little did she know that a g-g-ghost was sneaking up on her! It was the scariest ghost ever. If she hadn't been sleeping, and her eyes would have been open, she would have just been terrified!

"I'm going to eat your brains, little girl!" growled the ghost.

Violet, who was an extremely light sleeper, was roused by this.

"Wh-who's there?" she asked, reaching out her hands and feeling the ghost's spongy face. "Mother? Is that you?" she wondered. In the darkness, she was as good as blind.

"Yes, it's me!" said the ghost, affecting a woman's voice.

"But mother, your voice is so different. And your face is so burned."

"Go back to bed, dearie," said the ghost in its shrill falsetto.

"Very well, mother," said Violet, "but before I do, give me a kiss, like you do every night."

The ghost, whose lips were blistered and infected, knew he couldn't kiss her without revealing himself to be an imposter, so he was in something of a jam. Vainly, he struggled to think of a solution.

"I'm sorry, honey," said the ghost, turning away from the teenage girl. "My lips have fallen off."

The silence seemed to last an eternity.

"Again?" said Violet, finally. "Mother, you must see a doctor already!"

"Pish posh," said the ghost, edging steadily away. "Those doctors are just after your money."

"That's a strange thing for you to say," Violet observed, reaching for the night light switch. "What's going on?"

But by the time she had turned on the night light, the ghost was gone.

xxx

The next morning, Violet and her mother shared the dining room table over breakfast.

"Did you come into my room last night?" wondered Violet.

"Only briefly," answered Vivien, "to retrieve my gum which I left in there."

"Did you speak to me at all?"

"No, I imagined you were asleep."

Violet was growing concerned, but decided not to show it. "Mother," she continued, "do you think there's something creepy in this house?"

"Only the way you keep calling me mother," Vivien answered. "You never used to do that."

Violet cleared her throat, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "I'm afraid I must leave the table, mother. Stomach problems."

"You can leave the table whenever you want, Violet. Why are you talking like that?"

"I'm sorry," said Violet, shaking her head. "It's just... these pills I found on the floor. They're making me act strangely."

"They'll do that to you," laughed Vivien. " Well, never mind girl. Off with you!" Vivien cracked a kitchen towel at Violet, prompting her to jump up and scurry out of the room. Vivien chuckled to herself. "That girl of mine..."

xxx

Although she had no particular enthusiasm about attending school, she simply had to go. She emerged from the car, backpack in tow, walking purposefully toward the main building.

"Hey baby!" said one male jock, who whistled and made a masturbation motion.

Violet, feeling self-conscious, crossed her chest with her arms and shuffled away.

"Hey, new girl!" said a blond young lady, throwing a hole puncher at her, which collided violently with her head and landed on the ground with a thud. "Pick it up for me!"

"No!" hissed Violet.

Angered, the blonde and the rest of her social group approached, all slapping their palms with baseball bats.

"What did you say?" asked the blonde, fuming.

"I'm not picking up your hole puncher. What do you even need a hole puncher for anyway?"

"Why you -" she began, lifting the bat, preparing to strike, before a mustachioed teacher suddenly took notice.

"Hey!" said the middle aged man. "Put those bats away. You and I both know baseball isn't until third period."

"Yes sir," said the disappointed girls, tucking their clubs back into their knapsacks.

"We'll finish this later," whispered the leader of the girls to Violet.

"Don't you worry about them," said the teacher. "They're just big ol' meanies. Say, I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?"

"It's my first day," Violet confirmed.

"I remember my first day," said the teacher, his eyes glazing over with a film of nostalgia as he presumably remembered things.

"Look, I have to go," insisted Violet. "I have a class to run to."

"Yes, class," said the man, suddenly composing himself. "I suppose I ought to run too, but before we go, here, let me give you my number."

He began scribbling it down on a scrap of paper.

"Please," he continued, "get in touch if you ever need anything. I'll be happy to provide whatever you like."

Violet suddenly noticed that he was winking at her.

"Sir, it's nearly eight thirty," she replied. "I really must -"

"Yes, yes," interrupted the teacher, nodding understandingly. "Off you go."

Violet ran down the hall, unsure of exactly where her class was, but eager to get as far away from him as possible. Finally, she found her classroom.

Entering uncertainly, she drew the attention of the entire class.

"Nice of you to join us, Miss... Harmon, I assume?"

"Violet is fine," she replied, drawing chuckles from the class.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" said the suddenly agitated teacher. "Well, I won't be upstaged." The stout woman then leapt up from her chair and performed a funny chicken dance, drawing gales of laughter from the teenage audience.

Chucking to herself, a slightly embarrassed Violet admitted, "That is pretty funny."

"Alright, now sit down," said the teacher.

Violet took her place at the one empty desk in the room.

"I suppose I ought to tell you, Violet," continued the teacher, "my name is Miss Hen, which some have used derisively against me because of my henlike body. I suspect you won't be doing the same."

"No miss," answered Violet.

"Very well," said the teacher. "You may find yourself a bit lost at first, but I imagine you'll get the hang of it."

Violet nodded.

"Alright," said Miss Hen. "As I was saying..."

xxx

"Hey, you like a bit o' this?" asked Violet of Ashley, the blonde from earlier, miming marijuana smoking actions. "You like a bit o' puff puff?"

Ashley looked conspiratorially left and right. "You serious about this?" she wondered, some apprehension entering her voice.

Violet gave her a long look in the eye and answered, "Yes," nodding so enthusiastically that her beanie came off.

Ashley took a hand to her chin and stroked it, like a young man stroking his erect penis.

It had all been Tate's idea, of course.

"It'll be fun," Tate had said. "We'll bring her down to the basement and scare the crap out of her. There'll be rocks in her jocks afterwards. Poo rocks!"

Violet liked the idea the moment she heard it. She wanted revenge on those girls, those attractive, snobbish girls.

"Well?" asked Violet of Ashley, prompting her with hand motions and additional noises.

Ashley nodded and said, "Okay, let's do it."

"My parents are away for the afternoon," explained Violet, urging Ashley to follow. "They have to buy a... er... new toilet! That's right. A toilet."

They headed down into Violet's basement.

"This is creeping me out," said Ashley, looking nervously around.

"Just a little bit further..." said Violet, relishing the anticipation.

"I mean -" began Ashley, when suddenly, Tate leapt out from behind the wall.

"Boo!" he yelled.

Ashley recoiled in horror, but not soon enough. Tate twisted around with lightning speed and let out a massive, stinky fart. Now, Ashley was screaming, running for the exit. Her unfamiliarity with the place proved a curse as she found herself unable to escape, rushing vainly around in circles.

"No, no, no!" said Ashley, the stench still lingering in her nostrils. Finally, she looked up. Someone had opened the door. She desperately ran for it, only to find Violet's dad blocking the flame.

She stumbled backwards, eyes wide. "B-but... you were supposed to be toilet shopping!"

"It was all a ruse," said a proud Violet, emerging from the shadows, following by a grinning Tate.

"Yes, it was nothing but a malicious trick," added Tate.

The two of them cackled like a pair of witches. Ashley ran crying out of there, knocking Violet's baffled dad aside.

"Now, what the heck was that all about?" wondered Ben Harmon.

"Well, don't ask us!" she replied, her and Tate pointing and grinning at each other. The two of them burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"What do you mean, don't ask you?" said Ben. "Why shouldn't I? You're specifically the person I should be asking."

"You just don't get it, Dad," said Violet, shaking her head, making a 'cuckoo crazy' motion with her finger. "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

Feeling annoyed, Ben Harmon walked away, muttering to himself, "That kid is a bad influence on my daughter... harrumph, harrumph."

xxx

It had been an exhausting day for the both of them, and now, they were laying on Violet's bed, listening to music.

"Come here, Tate," said Violet to him, waving a beckoning finger. "Won't you kiss me on the face?"

Tate leaned in slowly and gave her a peck on the nostril.

"No," whispered Violet, "on the lips."

Their mouths connected. Almost all the blood in Tate's body rushed to his Johnson.

"Oh Tate," Violet sighed.

They kissed again, and the buttons on Tate's pants simply popped off.

Tate lifted Violet's top, revealing two belly buttons, which disconcerted him, then seven breasts. Upon closer inspection, he found that he had simply miscounted.

"Baby, baby," said Tate, moving her arms to and fro, making a human doll out of her.

"Stop that," insisted Violet.

Tate removed her top and got to work on the bra, which proved a bigger challenge than expected. He put a torch in his mouth and began disassembling it. Minutes later, he had successfully removed all fifty-eight pieces.

Now that her breasts were exposed, Violet immediately lactated, squirting milk into Tate's eye.

"Ow!" shouted Tate.

Violet gave a giggle.

Tate climbed on top of her and fondled her swollen mammaries, which, to his horror, accidentally popped off. He quickly reattached them before she noticed anything. Finally, he removed Violet's pants, revealing a swollen cunt which squirted him in the other eye.

xxx

That night was the eeriest night in the history of Westfield. The local paranormal experts had their spookometers out and the readings were off the charts. A draconian Marshall watched them all on CCTV screens.

"Somethin's goin' on in that town! What is it?" shouted the Marshall at the security man sitting beside him.

"Gee mister," said the uniformed fellow, "I don't know. If I were you, I'd be askin' them." He motioned to the screens.

"You idiot!" shouted the Marshall, slapping the man on the back of the head. "They're a thousand miles away! How it the heck do you think I'm ever gonna talk to 'em!"

"Gee," said the officer, "I guess I say some pretty stupid things sometimes."

"Damn right you do!" exclaimed the Marshall, slapping him again.

"Hey quit that!" It wasn't the security guard who had said this, but rather a long legged brunette who was now standing in the doorframe, dressed in tight fitting business attire.

"Hoochie mama!" said the security guard, earning him another slap from the Marshall.

"Now, what can I do for you?" asked the Marshall, putting on his seductive voice. Also, his eyebrows were wriggling uncontrollably.

"You're going to want to see this," said the lady, flashing a manila envelope.

"What... what is it?" asked the Marshall.

"Not around him," said the lady, looking at the security guard.

"Gee, lady, I sure'd like to be inside you," drawled the guard as they shut the door on him.

The lady passed the envelope to the Marshall. He opened it and withdrew a couple of photographs. They were pictures of Tate in bed with Violet.

"Just as I thought," said the Marshall. "Evidence from a child pornography ring." He shook his head. "But why are you giving this to me? I don't often masturbate to child pornography."

"You don't recognise the boy?" asked the woman.

The Marshall peered closer. "No, it can't be."

The attractive lady nodded solemnly.

"B-but... he's dead!" exclaimed the Marshall.

"That's why we came to your division," she replied. "As I understand it, the paranormal is your forte."

"Well," said the Marshall, adjusting his collar, "that's not my only field of expertise." Suddenly, his penis was out.

"Put it away!" she insisted. The Marshall obeyed. "Whatever's happening here, this is big. Imagine if we could finally prove the existence of ghosts. We'd be treated like gods, gods who had proven ghosts."

The Marshall nodded. "I'll gather my best men," he said. "We'll get some ghost nets from the armory and be there by sundown tomorrow."

"Did you say ghost nets?"

"Sure did," said the Marshall. "You know how to get in touch, I assume?"

"Actually, on your records, we only have a fax number. That's why I came directly to you."

"That's okay. You can still fax me if you want."

"I would prefer to call."

"I'll fax you my number later."

"I don't have a fax machine. It's not 1997."

"Look, my superior can give it to you in the morning."

"Fine," said the woman. "Goodbye, Marshall."

With that, she turned and left.

Satisfied, the Marshall returned to the CCTV room, where the security guard was masturbating to pornography which filled every available screen.

"Er, sorry boss," said the guard, sheathing his penis.

xxx

When Violet woke, she thought it was just an ordinary day. In some respects, it was, but in other, more significant respects, it was quite remarkable.

"Wakey wakey!" cried her mother, slapping at the door.

"Wakey wakey..." Violet grumpily echoed as she climbed out of bed. "Seems like all I ever do is climb out of bed."

Still nude from the previous night, the first thing she did was slip on a pair of panties.

"It feels good to have my privates protected," she said quietly.

"Who are you talking to in there?" wondered her mother from outside.

"Nobody!" she insisted, but then nervously looked over to her pet turtle, to whom she had been speaking.

"Wab wab," said the turtle, presumably because that's the sound turtles make.

Violet, smiling at it, gave an affectionate "wab wab" in return, then moved back to her closet, wherein hang countless Halloween costumes.

"I must stop buying so many Halloween costumes," Violet said to herself.

Well, perhaps she was right. But then, maybe not.

"Violet, your breakfast is on!" cried her mother from downstairs. "You don't want your buttered toast to get cold!"

"Or do I...?" wondered Violet. "No, I suppose not."

She dressed herself and hurried for the stairs. On the table, there were more slices than she could have ever imagined, perhaps thousands.

"I cooked this toast especially for you," said Vivien, "so I hope you like it."

Violet took and seat. She tucked a napkin into her blouse.

"Eat," insisted Vivien, "before I kill this whole family!"

xxx

Arriving at school, Violet looked around at her classmates.

"Mindless automatons," she thought. "I bet they don't even listen to the same music I do."

She headed down the hall, approaching her locker.

"Excuse me, excuse me," she said, cutting through the crowd.

She was barely near her locker before she noticed the pungent smell. Entering the combination, she opened it, revealing a great big poo inside. A group of jocks from the other side of all pointed and laughed.

"We did it!" cried one of them. "We all pooed in there!"

Tears welled up in Violet's eyes and she ran away, off to the bike racks.

"Like sucks!" she said, kicking the dirt.

"Hey, quit that!" cried the dirt, spraying itself up into her eyes.

Violet squealed and clutched her stinging vision-balls. "Why does everything happen to me?" she screamed. "Sometimes I think everyone hates me!"

"I do hate you!" cried the dirt.

She stomped her feet, trying deliberately to agitate the ground beneath her, and it responded in kind, spraying itself up onto her face, into her mouth. Spitting it out, like blowing a raspberry, saliva frothing and spilling down her face, she became more agitated still, crying and stomping uncontrollably.

Finally, when the spraying ceased, she plonked her ass onto the ground.

She wept until she was approached by a stunningly beautiful brunette, perhaps in her early thirties.

"Are you Violet Harmon?" asked the lady.

"What's it to ya?" Violet demanded.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," she said. "You don't know me, but I'm from a special division of the federal government. I have some questions."

"Hmm," said Violet.

"Do you know a young man named Tate Langdon?"

Violet gave her a curious look, the kind of look that said, "I am looking at you."

"Why do you ask?"

The lady knelt down to meet Violet's eye level. "Because," she began, "he's a very naughty boy."

Violet shook her head dismissively. "What is this all about anyway?"

"He's a killer!" she hissed.

"No!" cried Violet, punching the woman in the ovaries. "That's not true!"

The agent doubled over. Violet leapt up and began to walk.

"The further you get away from him," cried the lady, "the better!"

Violet turned. "You bloody federal agents don't know anything! You'll see how kind he is when he comes back to this school and 'finishes the job' like he always threatens to do, whatever that means. I'm outta here!"

"Wait, Violet, come back!" said the woman, but Violet didn't care. She clenched her hands into fists and stomped away.

The agent, still in some pain, shook her head and marched back to the van. Opening the door, she climbed inside, surprising her co-worker, Samuel.

"That was quick," he said. "So, where are we headed next?"

xxx

Violet got home at around quarter past three to find her mother rolling some dough.

"Dough, what's up?" said Violet.

"What?" asked Vivien.

"You know, instead of 'yo'?"

Vivien just looked at her blankly until she went away.

Climbing up the stairs, still dirty from earlier, Violet couldn't believe what an awful day she'd had. First she was named after a stupid colour, and now this.

"I hate my life!" she said, kicking the dog, killing it instantly. "Everything about it sucks."

"There there," said Tate, emerging from her room.

"Oh Tate," said Violet, slapping his abs affectionately, causing them to ring out like a steel drum.

"Hmm," said Tate, concerned about the sound his body had made.

"You know," began Violet, "some lady was asking about you earlier today," talking as if it was of minor significance. "She said she was from the federal government."

Tate recoiled. "No, no!"

"Tate, what is it?"

"You can't let 'em get to me!" Tate cried. "They only want my ectoplasm to heal children with cancer!"

"I didn't tell 'em nothin', I swear!" Violet insisted.

"You bettern't have," said Tate.

"But Tate," continued Violet, "why do you even have ectoplasm? What aren't you telling me?"

"I'm sorry, baby," Tate began. "I haven't been entirely honestly with you. I'm..."

He sat her down.

"Listen, Violet, I - I'm a ghost."

"No!" said Violet, putting her hands over her head and collapsing to the ground. "I didn't even know ghosts was real!"

"I'm afraid they is," said Tate, frowning.

xxx

The attractive federal agent and her partner Samuel emerged from the restaurant, each feeling so stuffed they felt they might burst.

"I am full!" shouted the lady, laughing, having truly enjoyed herself for the first time in months.

Samuel swung open the door of van, revealing a group of teens playing experimentally with the equipment, who hissed and scattered like cats.

"Damn teens," said the lady, climbing into the van, which felt grimy after those young people had been in there. "What time do we have?" she suddenly wondered.

Samuel looked at his watch. "Five o'clock," he said. "We better get going."

The lady banged against the window which separated her and the driver. "Jeeves, get us out of here."

"Very well," said the elderly butler, and the van set in motion.

xxx

Violet climbed slowly up the stairs. She felt like a bulging Thanksgiving turkey.

"I shouldn't have eaten all that astronaut paste," she said.

"Violet!" cried Tate, as soon as she had appeared. "Come, look out the window with me."

She steadily followed, knocking over some expensive vases as she did. Outside, she saw cars collecting around her home.

"Tate..." she began. "Who are these peops?"

"These 'peops,' as you call them, work for the federal government, and they've come to take me away. But they can never tear us apart. We're so close we might as well be joined at the hip, like those Chinese men from the World Records book. We'll make it through this, Violet. I promise."

The cars, trucks and vans were gathering like a storm. Violet watched helplessly from the window.

"Tate!" she said, distraught. "There must be a hundred people out there. You're no match for them."

"You forget," he began, "there's a reason they call me Ghostman Tate."

The proclamation sent chills shooting down her spine.

"What a boy!" she thought. "What a ghost boy!"

"Tateman," she began, seeing him leave, inventing a new nickname. "What are you gonna do to them?"

"Only what I have to," he said.

"I love you," she whispered.

As Tate headed downstairs, the agents headed across the yard. A couple hundred feet away, the attractive lady was in the van, watching it all.

It was fully dark when the team moved in. Tate could see them from the window as they approached.

"Come, my pretties," he whispered, in the manner of Gollum.

Violet trembled with nervous anticipation.

Suddenly, the flew open and in burst a fully outfitted team of soldiers, pointing semiautomatic machineguns with flashlights attached. One agent had forgotten his gun, so he was just holding a broom and hoping nobody would notice.

"Please no!" cried Violet. In response, the team shot her dead instantly.

"No, Violet!" cried Tate, but it was too late. The Marshall leapt out and threw a ghost net over Tate, rendering him unable to escape.

"No!" said Tate. "I hate nets!"

The Marshall knelt down in front of the troublesome ghost.

"Looks like we've captured you now."

"You people just don't understand," said Tate. "I didn't mean to be a ghost. It just happened."

"Too bad!" screamed the Marshall, momentarily deafening everyone. "Take him away boys."

They dragged the netted Tate out the door as he kicked and squealed all the while. A ghost Violet mournfully waved goodbye.

"We're gonna do some experiments on you," said the Marshall to Tate. "Experiments on your penis!"

"No, no!" cried Tate, before they threw him in the van.

A hundred feet away, the attractive lady looked on, watching everything on her screens, Finally, she'd done it. She had him.

Samuel turned to her.

"Say," he asked. "What's your name, anyway?"


End file.
